


Mark Our Spirits

by TatsuKitty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Canon, Canon Compliant, Christmas, Druidism, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Flower Crowns, Fluff, M/M, Magical Realism, Oblivious, Pagan pack, Paganism, Post S4, Post-Canon, Slow Build, The wiccan christmas basically, Wicca, Wolf Derek, Yule, like your teeth might fall out from sugar sweet rot, magick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:12:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TatsuKitty/pseuds/TatsuKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The air is crisp and cold and Stiles would enjoy it a lot more if he wasn’t currently running for his life. The cwn annwn were after him for interrupting their chase after those they deemed wrongdoers. It probably didn’t help that Stiles had been a mass murderer under the influence of the Nogitsune either. It was shaping up to be a very long night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mark Our Spirits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shiny4LoVe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiny4LoVe/gifts), [Hjaltalin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hjaltalin/gifts).



> Beta'd by the lovely Magess and Shiny4love! they took my work and made it so much better!  
> Disclaimer: I'm a practicing Wiccan and I go to a registered church of paganism. A lot of this is pulled from my personal experience with magick and paganism. Every path is different and that's what's beautiful about life! I also switched a bit of the kings around but that was done purposefully to suit characters and most of north america's winter. That being said I DID exaggerate some things. Forr the most part I tried to keep the magick pretty simple and understated and similar to what we do in real life! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Because life couldn’t possibly calm it’s shit, Stiles and Derek are at a wiccan bookstore three towns over trying to find something, anything, about cwn annwn (and for the love of life please don’t ask Stiles to pronounce it because he literally can’t). He’d been a bit… clingy with Derek as of late. He was just concerned; Derek’s last boo wasn’t a psychotic murderer this time, just a hired one. She was off doing her badass thing where she didn’t need a man now and basically gave Derek a kiss bye, then said she’d see him around. 

Ouch.

So, Stiles was being a true friend and a bro, never mind that he wasn’t previously Derek’s true friend but… he’d almost died. There was a moment where he was staring into Derek’s eyes as he coughed up blood and thought to himself ‘this is the last time I’m gonna see Derek alive and I don’t get to tell him that I lo-- ‘ well, let’s just not go there. 

“This would be a lot easier if I could pronounce this!” Stiles finally exclaims with a flail. “I can’t even say it in my head. Cuhwuhn? I can say ann!” 

“kun annunn.” Derek says softly and starts looking through books on Druidism and Celtic mythology. Stiles mouths the words a couple times, boggling at Derek for a moment. 

“How do you know how to say it? Are you a secret linguist? First Spanish, now Welsh?” 

“Not a secret.” He replies dryly, with a small smirk. Stiles just makes a face at him that makes his smirk wider and goes to ask the lady behind the counter about them. She’s draped in a shawl over a vaguely medieval style dress with seven different kinds of pentacles on various jewelry. She smells vaguely of pot and patchouli and has a scarf tied through her fluffed up blond hair. 

“They’re like white dogs with really red ears and they’re hungry for the flesh of things that totally don’t deserve to be eaten!” He explains. 

“Sounds like cwin annwuins.” She nods sagely. “They’re pretty harmless actually. You just need to use willow bark to get rid of them.” 

“…what.” Derek says over Stiles’ shoulders, startling him badly. 

“Oh my god, I’m going to put a bell on you. Don’t think I won’t!” 

“What would willow bark do?”

“It’s got cleansing properties.” She replies, still in that knowledgeable tone. 

“No. It has healing properties. You use willow bark for pain relief and fever.” Derek frowns sharply at her and WOW Stiles hasn’t seen that face in a while. 

“I know what I’m talking about.” She huffs at him and Derek snorts. 

“Clearly you don’t.” 

“Ok, dude, let’s not piss off the nice lady who has books we need.” Stiles murmurs under his breath. 

“We don’t need her books. These are all poorly written how-tos and Christian hating.” He shakes his head at Stiles. He drops the book in his hands like a hot potato. 

“Ah, well. Don’t want any part of that.” He winces and grabs Derek to leave the shop before they find out she actually had magic and no idea how to control it or something. That was totally possible in their lives. “So… how do YOU know so much about the whole paganism thing?” 

“…Ever wonder why there were Emissaries?” 

“To help with the shift and the magic and stuff.” Stiles shrugs. 

“Somewhat, but… emissaries were usually part of the circle. They helped connect the pack circle to the local pagan circles. It’s held through neo-paganism too.” He explains as they buckle their seat belts and head for yet another shop. 

“So you’re a pagan?” Stiles asks with interest. 

“I don’t know that I’m anything, anymore.” Derek replies cryptically. Stiles frowns a bit. 

“Why not?” 

“I spent a very long time being angry with the Gods, Stiles.” He sighs. Stiles falls silent and gnaws on his thumb, shame curling in his belly. If anyone had reasons to be angry at life or a higher power, it would be Derek Hale. 

“I haven’t actually looked at religion. I was… Still am pretty mad about my mom. So, I get it.” Stiles offers and gets a nod and a tightening of Derek’s lips in acknowledgement. They pull into a shop out of the way, small and nondescript with a dark blue paint job and a no-nonsense placard informing them that it was Thirteen Moons. Derek takes a deep breath as he parks the car and then gets out without another word. Stiles scrambles to follow him, throwing himself out of the car after him and shutting the door a little too hard. 

Once inside there’s a kindly old lady behind the counter. She’s probably about 80. She has a simple gold pentacle around her neck and a lurid purple hippie skirt on. 

“Oh my stars, Derek Hale is that you? I’d know those eyes anywhere. Look at you! You’re as tall as a tree!” She gasps and moves to put both gnarled hands on his scruffy jaw. 

“Yeah, it’s me. How are you, ma’am?” 

“Tsk don’t ma’am me! You know my name, child.” She scolds gently and tugs him down closer to her squat height. “Your soul is heavy.” She murmurs and smooth’s his hair back from his face. “You’re more balanced though. You accepted that weight well.” She praises. Derek goes a bit pink around the ears and chuckles, gripping her elbows.  
“Still overly perceptive, Marguerite.” Derek replies as she lets go of his face. Stiles shifts a bit uncomfortably before she comes over and shakes his hand. She pauses, looking like she can see through him for a moment. 

“Darkness around your heart….Child, what have you done to yourself?” She asks him and Stiles feels a cold finger go down his spine. 

“I… there was…” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry to pry, I didn’t mean to.” She pats the back of his hand with a regretful face.

“Oh, it’s ok. I didn’t think you were prying. Stuff just happens, right?” Stiles babbles, trying to play it off. “Can’t always control things.”

“It can do when you’re not shielded. Your spark and mine met, I think.” She smiles kindly at him. “Do you mind if I search a bit more?”

“Uh… I guess not? Go ahead?” He shrugs. She smiles gently and takes his hand again.

“Dark spirits… and the Nemeton.” She purses her lips, turning the bottom of her face into a mass of wrinkles. “Old grief and guilt. You need a cleansing, child. I can help with that if you would like to and consent to it.” She pats his cheek gently. Stiles feels picked apart and raw open for a moment before he nods quietly. Derek frowns at him in concern, moving to hover protectively at his elbow. There’s another spark of knowing in Marguerite’s eyes before she claps her hands together. 

“Well. I’ll get a list written up for that and we’ll schedule a good date. New moons are a good time to deal with your shadows. So, what brings you to visit me, Derek?”

“Cwn annwn are in Beacon Hills.” 

“No doubt summoned by that wide open door the Nemeton left. Why have you left it for so long?” 

“I don’t… practice, anymore.” Derek shakes his head. 

“You know people who do. What happened to Deaton?” 

“He’s working with Scott McCall.” 

“And Scott McCall doesn’t work in Beacon Hills?” She looks baffled. “Derek… are you an omega now?” She puts a hand on his arm. Stiles inches closer to him without conscious effort on his part. “Oh,” She says, eyeing him. “Definitely not then.” She winks at Stiles. 

“I’m a human.” He replies, frowning a little.

“Still pack, darling.” She says, bustling around the counter in a flurry of skirts that made a nearby display of wind chimes ting and peal. Stiles looked to Derek and tried not to stare at him in a besotted fashion. He was Derek’s pack?! “he’s a good one to have as an anchor.” She goes on, nodding. 

“I…I’m your anchor?” he echoes, eyes going huge before squinting. “Since when?” 

“Oh… oh poop. I’m sorry.” Marguerite winces and then claps a hand over her mouth. Derek heaves a large sigh and then mutters under his breath. 

“Before the Nogitsune.”

“Nogitsune?! Lands alive, child, what have you been doing in Beacon Hills?!” She pressed a hand over her heart. 

“I got better.” Stiles shrugs uncomfortably and scrubs a hand over his hair. 

“Well, I should hope so if you’re still alive and talking to me!” She shakes her head again and pulls out several books. “These should have what you need to know. Here’s my phone number and email. Get ahold of me for that cleansing. I can teach you some shielding and protection too.” She smiles. 

“Like Charmed kinda stuff?” he grins and receives a loud bark of laughter in return. 

“Not quite as showy as all that!” 

Derek looks at him as if he’d like to toss him against a wall for the first time in a long while. Stiles just gives him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Watch out, I’ll freeze time one of these days.” 

“Don’t give me nightmares, Stiles.” He sighs and takes the books, heading back for the car. 

“Be afraid, be very afraid!” 

*** 

The air is crisp and cold and Stiles would enjoy it a lot more if he wasn’t currently running for his life. The cwn annwn were after him for interrupting their chase after those they deemed wrongdoers. It probably didn’t help that Stiles had been a mass murderer under the influence of the Nogitsune either. It was shaping up to be a very long night.  
Derek was loping along on four legs beside him, tongue lolling as he panted. 

“Some wolf powers would be REALLY helpful right about now!” Stiles gasps for air and then yelps when Derek grabs his sleeve in his jaws and uses it for leverage to toss him into the circle. He’d marked it out earlier with stones and twigs, swept the area with a wooden broom deosil—or clockwise—and left the materials he’d need in the center. He quickly starts raising the circle as soon as Derek leaps beside him. His arms go up in goosebumps as it clicks into place. He takes several deep breaths as Derek pants and the cwn annwn circle around the barrier like bloodied ghosts. 

He moves to the north and tries not to feel silly calling for an elemental spirit to help protect them. He gasps when it feels like another puzzle piece clicked into place. He moves to the east, the south, and the west and feels almost like he’s both weighted down and feather light by the time he calls a generic plea to deities he has no clue are really out there. 

Derek sits stock still in the center as he does. It’s hard to tell his expression as a wolf but Stiles can’t resist putting a comforting hand on his ruff for a moment before getting the sage smudge and lighting it. He lets it burn for a bit before directing the smoke with his hands. He tries to focus on what Marguerite had been teaching him with his spark. It feels a bit like trying to hold a live fish in his hands most of the time. The spark is slippery, powerful; it doesn’t want to conform to his will. He stomps the sensation down with sheer willpower and belief. 

_“I didn’t open the Nemeton. I can’t close it for you. You’ll have to do it. The tree is drawn to you more than it is to your friend. You’re anchoring the door open now with your power. You have to shut it again, let the tree rest.”_ Marguerite had told him as they walked through what he would need to do. He took a stem from the Nemeton’s roots and soaked it in salt water to purify it and then let it dry before the rite. He burns it now with the sage, focusing on closing the gateway, pushing the darkness around his heart with vivid, clean light. 

The moment it finally clicked, he sagged over, barely caught by Derek’s shoulder. He got a mouth full of fur for his trouble. 

“That… was a lot more intense than I thought it would be…” He murmurs as he picks hairs off his tongue. Derek chuffs in agreement as warbling howls come up from the cwn annwn around the circle. They run towards the Nemeton and disappear. 

Stiles gets up on legs shaking like a colt’s and releases the deities. “Hail and Farewell!” he calls and feels seriously less ridiculous when Derek howls with him. A shiver goes up his spine as he moves from west to north widdershins—counterclockwise—and then ‘closes’ the circle. He feels like he just popped up from underwater and shook his head to clear the feeling. 

“Success and no one had to bleed! Well. Aside from some scraped palms cuz that one tree root was out to get me.” Stiles amends and looks down at his hands. Derek snorts and trots back towards their cars. 

“Hey, a little congratulations would be nice!” He hollers after him but grins to himself. “I did it. I did that. That’s pretty awesome.” 

****

Stiles and Scott are still somewhat of a package deal, so Stiles’ clinging to Derek means that Scott is there at the loft with him. Which means that Malia, Liam, Kira, and Lydia have spread out some blankets on the floor to pour through the books with Stiles. 

“They know about banshees?”

“Derek was holding out on us, ok?” Stiles glares at him and points two fingers at his own eyes before pointing them at Derek. He just looks unimpressed and a little uncomfortable and unsure how they all ended up at his loft. 

“You’ve known her since you were a kid? That’s so cool, dude.” Scott grins at him and claps a hand on his shoulder. Derek stares at it like it’s going to turn into a tentacle and crawl up his nose. Scott gives him a friendly little shake. “These books are great. Does she know more banshees?” 

“There’s a whole coven. They’re like this whole underground network of Pagans across like every state. There’s like registered churches and everything. Marguerite says that everyone can do magick but Sparks tend to be emissaries; Sparks tie us to the pack.” Derek stares at him oddly before Stiles flushes, realizing he lobbed himself into both the pack and the emissaries. 

“Are we going to join a coven?” Liam asks. “I dunno if we should? I’m not the right religion.” 

“You don’t have to join.” Stiles lobs a pillow at him. “You’re a wolf, not a spark. That’s why you’ve got me to do awesome magick and kick ass.” He preens before Malia pushes him over with a laugh. 

“It would be pretty interesting to do one of these rituals though. We should see about joining them.” Lydia muses. Her expression reads loud and clear: Learning Experience!

“They’ve asked us to join them sometime. They have people call their own gods and stuff too. They said you could call Christian faith same as Pagan. It’s kinda... a mixed bag of religions? Pagans more an umbrella term. Like you’ve got Werewolves and in that there’s alphas, betas, omegas, kanimas, whatever the hell Parrish is.” He grins as they laugh. “Or like there’s Christianity but in that there’s Baptist and Episcopalian and Mormons.” Liam looks a bit more relaxed at that and nods. 

“I’m game. Sounds more fun than hunting down berserkers and serial killers.” 

“Mass murderer.” Lydia corrects before pursing her lips as Derek stands abruptly and heads to the kitchen. Stiles gives her his patented ‘I am so done with you right now’ face and she just wrinkles her nose and shakes her head at him. 

Stiles levers himself off the floor and follows Derek’s path to the kitchen. He’s staring at the coffee pot, waiting for it to finish running like he’s not even seeing it. Stiles lifts a hesitant hand and presses it to his shoulder. “Hey.”

“I’m fine, Stiles.” Derek replies tersely, gripping the edge of the counter. 

“I might not have wolf powers but I’m not a complete moron.” He scoffs and then rolls his eyes when Derek arches an amused brow at him. “No using your eyebrows to convey sarcastic humor at me, it’s not fair. At least use your words.” Derek’s shoulder shifts under his hand as he sighs. 

“No. I’m not ok. I… don’t. I.” He makes a small, frustrated sound. 

“I get it. Man pain is a bitch.” 

“Stiles.” He reprimands. “I’m… angry. I’m still angry at myself. I’m… angry at the Gods.” He murmurs lowly and refuses to look at Stiles. 

“Man, if anyone has a right to be pissed off at the Gods or the universe or whatever, it’s you. You’ve been through some shit. It’s been some rough years.” At that, Derek turns a surprised look at him. “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice. I’ve gotten really good at cleaning up blood and parenting kids a couple years older than me and breaking into my Dad’s files.” He laughs a bit. “Does being angry help?” 

“…No. Not really.” He replies after a moment’s thoughtful pause. 

“Might be time to let it go, then. I’m just fucking tired.” He shifts, putting the back of his hips against the counter and leaning back on his hands. “I’ve got sarcasm and that’s about it. Being pissed off or scared or anxious is just too much effort. Ain’t nobody got time fo’ dat.” 

“That… was so many negatives that I don’t know how to fix that sentence.” Derek stares at him in horror. Stiles explodes with laughter, shoulders rocking forward and jaws wide open. Derek looks pleased for a second and gives him one rare little smile. 

Malia poked her head in a second later, looking between the two of them thoughtfully before coming over to bump her shoulder against Stiles’. 

“Hey.” He smiles at her. Things have been odd since they got back from Mexico. She effectively lost her father twice but she seemed to cling to Stiles’ Dad a lot. It was odd, and it almost felt… sibling-y. Which was way too Luke and Leia for his comfort. He figured he was just too tired and busy to properly relationship right now. It would explain some of his weird, stomach twisting moments when Derek was around. 

They totally were a new thing. He’d never had those in the pool or in the back of a cop car. Yep, totally a new thing and not familiar at all here...

“Hey. Dad texted about food. I told him we were here.” She smiles at him. Stiles nods a bit. Derek’s previously open expression closes off, his spine goes stiff. Stiles isn’t sure what to make of it.

“We can call in take out so we don’t eat Derek out of house and home.”

“I have enough food for everyone. Fend for yourselves though.” Derek cautions and gets his fresh cup of coffee, pouring a sickening amount of sugar and cream into it before he returns to the couch in the living room without looking at Stiles again.

Malia takes that as the fridge being fair game and digs into it before making a delighted sound. “Deer!” She gasps and grabs out several venison burgers, bouncing to the microwave. 

“You got those just for her, didn’t you?” Stiles asks, leaning over the back of the couch. Derek just shrugs and crooks a bit of a smile at him. 

“Deer’s good.”

“Bambi burgers on the menu for everyone?” He laughs and flops over the back of the couch gracelessly to get to the front. Derek holds his coffee out of the way automatically and catches Stiles’ hip when he almost falls off the side. “Ah, thanks, man.” He tries really hard not to blush. He’s pretty sure he fails. 

“Don’t break yourself in my house.” Derek just deadpans back. Stiles can feel the love. 

“I’ll try and restrain myself.”

“You do that.” 

“If you’re done flirting,” Lydia arches a brow at them disdainfully. Derek gives her a flat look before taking a long drink of his coffee. Stiles feels like his face might actually light on fire with his blush. “Are we going to do any rituals with these people?” 

“I think it’s a good idea.” Scott agrees. “What’s the next one?” 

“Yule.” Stiles nods and then looks to Derek. “You ok with that?” He asks, arching his head back to look at him. 

“….We’ll see.”

“It’s basically Christmas. There will be presents.” Stiles wheedles. 

“I know what it is.” Derek pushes on his face, making him fall over with a warbling yell. He laughs and then rolls to lay by Lydia again. 

“I want to learn more. I need to be able to control my abilities more. I am sick and tired of finding dead bodies.” She turns a page primly and then starts researching Yule traditions. Scott steals the spot on the couch by Derek and beams at him. Derek just looks resigned to being dragged into the pack whether he wants it or not. 

****

 

The full moon comes with Stiles dragging Malia to a Rite with Marguerite’s church. He’s a bit floored when they arrive and find a large number of people, typically older, and all wearing some interesting outfits. One man is wearing nothing but a sarong despite the weather. Another petite old lady has a giant flower crown on her grey curls. Marguerite grins and rushes to hug both him and Malia. 

“Is this one of your wolves? No, you’re a coyote, aren’t you, dear?” She smiles and pats Malia’s cheeks.

“Yeah, how did you know?” 

“Energy! You’re a bit closer to the surface with the moon being full tonight. It makes an aura.” 

“Oh, Kira has one!” 

“She’s a kitsune.” Stiles elaborates for the priestess and then they get swept up in group hugs before the circle starts. The area they practice in is a permanent circle marked by a roughhewn stone altar, boulders and torches. 

The circle is cast and Stiles feels his skin go up in goosebumps again. Malia’s face flushes red and she looks at Stiles with wide eyes. 

“Does it always feel like that?” She asks in a pseudo whisper. There are some chuckles and nods from around the group. 

“Feels different for everyone.” The lady with the flower crown nods at her. “Some feel cold, some hot, some get the tingles or goosebumps.” 

“That’s kinda cool. I get hot.” Malia grins at her before looking expectantly at Stiles. He raises his arm with goosebumps all over it and she laughs and rubs a hand down it. 

They have separate people calling the elements tonight. They start after the circle calms again and they all face the direction as a group. Stiles is relieved that it doesn’t feel overwhelming this time and tries not to feel like a moron when he spreads his fingers out in the air in front of him. 

Marguerite and her husband call a god and a goddess that… Stiles can’t even imagine how to spell those names, let alone say them and he’s been learning LATIN from Lydia. He tries to be respectful even though he feels a bit out of place, slightly off kilter. He’s not sure what he believes in. Mountain ash, Energy, Elements, he can touch all those. They’re real and he knows it. He knows there’s a power inside of him but he’s not sure how that connects to this grand idea of God or Deity or capital U-Universe. 

He focuses, barely and with much wrestling of his ADHD, on the priest and priestess talking about the season, the upcoming solstice and the time when the sky will lighten with snow. 

“Does that mean we have to get skyclad?” He asks. They erupt into laughter and hoots. 

“You first!” a soccer mom calls from across the circle and several people cheer her on and laugh. 

“Stiles!” Marguerite interjects between laughter. “What do you think skyclad means?” 

“Uh… like… Getting covered in snow or rain? Like… clad with stuff from the sky? It was next on my research terms.” 

“Baby, it means wearing NOTHING but the sky.” The flower crown woman pats his hand. “You got them all excited.” 

“You wanted to see me naked?” he asks, semi-delighted. There are more catcalls and crowing. He erupts with laughter at them, shaking his head. The circle ends with more cheering a bit later. They close it after releasing the elements for a group potluck dinner. Stiles brought sodas because he had no idea what to cook. The guy in the sarong with killer abs helps Malia get her hair untangled from a nearby tree and grins.

“Excited for the feast?” 

“What’s in it?” 

“Little bit of everything, really. Mostly casseroles. We go all out for the big rituals though.” He smiles. Stiles waits to feel jealous or upset and instead feels vaguely hungry and wonders how Derek’s doing on the full moon. He pictures his wolf form and smiles a little. 

“What’s your favorite food?” The guy asks and Stiles winces when Malia blurts “Deer” wistfully. “Oh, I’m more partially to rabbit myself but I have some deer jerky if you’d like some.” Malia lights up, stands up straighter, and Stiles feels as if someone punched him in the throat. 

“Oh my god, what did I do?” He murmurs to himself. Malia sends him a concerned look he waves off before he runs and sits on the lip of a large stone fountain. He bends and puts his head between his knees, struggling to make sense of his mind and his feelings

“What’s going on? Talk to me.” Marguerite rubs a hand up and down his back, startling him. 

He word vomits out how they found Malia, everything with the Nogitsune, how they met again in Eichen House and the aftermath. 

“Marguerite… I… I tried to make her something she’s not. What’s wrong with her liking deer? Humans eat deer! Why did I do that? What’s wrong with me?” He wipes his face and realizes he’s crying. 

“Honey… oh honey.” She takes both his hands. “You have had so little direction and control. You’ve been through so much so fast…” She rubs her thumbs over his knuckles. “You’re realizing now. I think she’s realizing too. You need each other. Maybe not like this. That’s up to you and her. You have to talk it out. Really listen.”

“Can… did I fuck it up too bad? I’m so scared. I’m supposed to protect my dad and the pack but how can I do that? I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m terrified all the time. It never goes away. I worry so much.” 

“You’re going to fuck up, Stiles.” She says bluntly. “That’s life. You’ve just got to learn from when you do mess up. The pack will love you and trust you because you’re who you are; because you are worried about fucking up and you want nothing more than for everyone to make it through intact.” She pats him and, oddly enough, a weight lifts from Stiles’ shoulders. 

“Yeah… yeah. Ok.” He gives her a watery smile. “So I heard there was food?” 

She laughs and tugs him inside to eat. 

***  
Malia stormed into his room in her bra and underwear, holding two dresses. “I don’t know what to wear. Help!” She holds them out at him. 

“They’re both short. It’s cold.” He gestures to the window where there are a couple little flurries coming down. 

“I have leggings. I know what leggings I want to wear but I want to be pretty to see Phoenix…” She had her first date with sarong dude tonight. They’d talked until Stiles was hoarse and felt scraped with sandpaper but the break was good. They were almost awkward stepsiblings now. It was like two exes whose parents got married or something. She still lived with him and his dad but they had separate rooms and she… blossomed, really. She did so much better without Stiles smothering her. Stiles, meanwhile, was more himself than he’d felt in years. 

“His sarong had that gold color on it like this dress.” He gestures to one. She beams and rushes back out of his room to change as his phone goes off. Marguerite’s cheery voice greets him when he picks up. 

“Hello, Stiles! Have you heard from Derek? I need him to be at the cleansing for the obvious reasons.” She chirrups. Stiles nods in agreement: of course, he’d need a tie to the pack for it. He assumes Scott’s tie to the Nemeton makes him a less compatible, since the goal is to clear out Stiles’ heart. 

“I have. He says he’ll be there, so he’s supposed to come over right after Malia leaves with Phoenix.” He nervously tugs at his plain white t-shirt.

“Alright. I’m getting everything ready. You took a bath in the salt water?” 

“Yes, hot as I could stand it. I scrubbed with the salt too, and put on white everything. The pants are sleep pants.” He grins.

“Sounds good, see you soon.” She replies before ending the call. Malia waves through the door and then bounces out to meet her date. When she reaches the front door, she hollers up to him. 

“He’s here!” 

Stiles’ heart lurches in his chest and stutters into a rapid pace for a moment. He takes some deep breaths and writes it off as nerves. He jogs down the stairs and smiles at Derek. 

“Where’s she going?” Derek asks, raising his eyebrows in the direction she went. 

“She’s got a date with a guy from my church, Phoenix.” 

“Oh.” He frowns at Stiles. “You… ok?” 

“Yeah. It was my idea. We… weren’t healthy. It was getting a bit incestuous? Way too gross to continue.” 

“Hmm. I’m glad you’re ok.” Derek offers and Stiles punches his shoulder lightly. 

“Thanks, bro. Wanna go scrub some darkness off my soul? Sounds like a party, am I right?”

“Shut up, Stiles.” 

*******

The ride over goes in a stilted rush. Stiles is too nervous to really talk for once, and instead, chews his thumb nail through the ride. Derek growls when he fidgets enough to shake the whole car but otherwise stays quiet. 

Marguerite and her husband, Arthur, meet them on the front porch when they pull up. 

“Taller than me now, Hale.” Arthur grins and Derek gives a bashful nod. Stiles feels a swoop in the pit of his stomach that he pushes to the back of his mind. Marguerite gives him a knowing look and hugs him tight. 

“Come to the circle, boys.” She leads Stiles by the hand. It’s set up with candles on the altar. Derek follows just behind him, a warm presence at his back. “Stiles, if you could take off your shirt.” 

He hesitates, holding the hem. He’s gotten some small muscles, nothing like Derek’s bulk even though he’s softened a bit since he was the Alpha. Stiles has a hint of a six pack and some lean muscles cording his ribs. He’s also pale as a fish belly, dotted with moles, and has a couple scars he’d managed to keep hidden. He sighs softly and tugs his shirt over his head before he can chicken out. 

Derek’s eyes trail over him. He feels his chest flush, which… so attractive. He scratches nervously at his own happy trail and shivers a bit in the early winter chill. Arthur and Marguerite light candles and torches. They cast the circle closed and Derek shudders next to him when the energy cascades around them both. 

Marguerite hands Derek some paste made of mashed sage. He takes it and dabs a finger into it before starting to mark lines down Stiles’ chest. He feels his nipples pebble and his skin breaks out in goosebumps. He jerks his gaze up to meet Derek’s. His heart stutters and he gives a shaky grin to receive a reassuring smile in return. Derek continues tracing lines down his chest to just above his navel, and then repeats it on his spine. 

“Uruz, for freedom.” Marguerite presses the tip of her double edge knife to the mark on his chest. “Fehu to grow.” Here she presses the blade to the space between his ribs. His skin tingles at the danger. “Thurisaz to defend.” She presses the blade just above his navel. His spine shivers at the threat over his soft, vulnerable stomach. He takes a steadying breath and looks to Derek, surprised to find his hackles raised until the knife is moved away. She goes to the back and repeats the mantra, pressing the tip to the corresponding areas on his spine. He reaches out his hands to steady himself on nothing and is surprised to find Derek’s forearms instead. 

“Breathe.” He intones seriously to Stiles, brows concerned. Stiles takes a shuddering breath and squeezes his fingers hard into Derek’s forearms. “Again.” He commands and Stiles takes another slow, deep breath. He starts feeling steadier and gives him a shaky smile. 

“It doesn’t want to be cleansed.” Arthur remarks. “It’s going to fight. Just keep breathing. Feel your feet on the ground.” Stiles focuses on his toes in his shoes, the hint of grass and frost beneath them. “Draw the earth up as white light. Feel it swirl around your ankles and into your calves.” Stiles nods, eyes shut tight as the feeling creeps up him. “Now draw it into your stomach, up to your chest. Surround the darkness.” His fingers clench tighter on Derek’s arms and he feels his heart jerk as the white light surrounds it. “The darkness is leeched out by the white. Feels it tug and fade…” Stiles whimpers and he’d be embarrassed if he didn’t feel like his heart was going to jump right out of his chest.

“His heart is going crazy. It’s not working.” Derek sounds panicked and Stiles jolts his eyes open. Derek looks shocked and moves, pressing a hand to his chest over his rabbit fast pulse. That’s not going to help it slow down at all… “Stiles, your eyes…” 

“It… I’m gonna get it.” He tries to sound determined and shuts his eyes tight again, focusing on the darkness. It feels like he’s shredding the tissue in his chest, or draining a boil. It hurts burns, stings and pulls, wrenches but it’s a relief, an end to an ever present throbbing pain that had been going on for too long. He pushes the light around the last bit of black when his heart thumps and goes perfectly still. 

“STILES!” Derek shouts as the black takes Stiles. 

 

***

 

He blinks awake feeling lighter than he has since just before Scott was turned. He gives a soft, delighted laugh before he sees Derek. He looks wrecked, eyes suspiciously bright and face red. He flashes back to when young Derek was asking Scott about his family and reaches for him, grabbing his shoulder. 

“I got it. It’s gone.” He grins. 

“Good. Because, I’m going to kill you if you do that again.” Derek replies and sounds dead serious. “I will rip your throat out. With my teeth.” 

“You’re so scary, Sourwolf.” He laughs again and relaxes back into the grass. “This ground is really cold. Can I get up now?” 

“You’re lucky I don’t turn you over my knee for that stunt, mister!” Marguerite quavers at him. “What part of slow and steady didn’t you understand?! If Derek didn’t anchor you, you’d be dead right now!” 

“But I’m Derek’s anchor. I don’t need an anchor.” He blinks. 

“…For someone so smart, you don’t have the sense the Gods gave rocks!” She huffs and lights more sage incense before starting to close the circle. 

Stiles just sends a confused look to Derek, but he won’t meet Stiles’ gaze. 

****

Stiles is once more curled up in Derek’s loft. His dad had joined them, oddly enough, bringing case files for Derek to look over. They both have large mugs of coffee while Lydia and Stiles are on the floor picnic style clutching mugs of tea and books on paganism. 

“Scott should be the Oak King.” Stiles argues. 

“But why? Shouldn’t he be the one victorious?” She counters. “He’s the Alpha, the True Alpha.” She makes air quotes. 

“The Oak King and the Holly King are brothers. The Oak king defeats the Holly King in spring. They battle it out periodically.” 

“Scott’s definitely more of a springtime person.” She concedes and marks it down for their ritual overview. “Are you teaching me to cast a circle today?” 

“I have to teach you to ground and shield first.” He shakes his head. 

“But could it be a Kanima?” He hears his dad ask Derek. He can’t stifle a laugh, ducking his head to Lydia’s shoulder. She pats him lightly before Derek snarls and he jerks his head up to look for the threat. There’s not one. He shoots a puzzled look to Derek, who pointedly ignores him. The tips of his ears are pink and his knuckles are white on his coffee cup, which creaks ominously. 

“What was that about?” He murmurs to Lydia. She gives him a flat look and purses her lips before patting his cheek. 

“Oh honey. You can’t possibly be this stupid.” She remarks. 

“You know, I’m getting called stupid a lot for someone learning seven thousand new things for the pack!” He gestures broadly and winces when he slops hot tea on his thigh. “Ouch. Ignore that!” He gasps as Lydia cracks up, falling over. 

“Oh great Emissary, tell me more about how to spill scalding tea on myself to make a point.” 

“I hate everyone, but you… You I hate the most!” He points a dramatic finger at her. 

“Imagine how much that hurts me.” She gives him a serene expression as she flips the page. 

“Hate.” He reiterates and then rolls to lie on his belly on the floor. “Hey, Derek, toss me that pillow!” he calls imperiously. He gets hit square in the face with it and splutters. Derek just smirks at him and his dad has that long-suffering look of his directed at Derek this time. “Why don’t you just hire him, dad? He knows how to shoot and everything now.” 

“You just want to see him in that uniform.” Lydia murmurs. Stiles makes a squawk of protest. He knows Derek hears the lie when his ears go red. 

“Not a bad plan, actually…” His dad muses and taps at some of the files. Derek blinks in surprise at him. Stiles just feels smug for a moment before Lydia snaps her fingers in front of his face. 

“Shielding. Grounding. Summoning a literal Goddess. More important than daydreaming!” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He sighs and starts walking her through the processes slowly. “Sit up, close your eyes. Ok, now feel down to the earth.” 

“Stiles, we’re in a LOFT”

“That is on the earth! Shush and listen.” He is so done with her right now. “Feel down the beams, through the floors to where the building connects to the earth. Draw that energy up. It’s flooding along the pipes, up through the floor, pouring into you.” Her glossy lips part in a soft gasp that lets Stiles’ know she’s got it. “Good. It’s filling your body with white light. You’re pulling it up to your chest, it’s swirling around your throat. You can taste it on your tongue. It’s gushing from your head and creating a crown.”  
He watches her face slacken a bit and then a small smile twitches her lips. 

“Now feel the sun through the windows. It’s Golden. It’s rays strike your white crown and create a prism of color which floods back into you. You can feel it like fresh water trickling down your throat. It’s flooding your chest and stomach, down to your toes. You are loved and you are love.” 

She gives a little hitching breath and Stiles gives her just a moment. When she seems peaceful again, he continues. 

“Compress that energy. Pull it in to your chest and make it a solid ball, feel how warm and strong it is. Now push it out around you. It’s a perfect sphere, covering your whole body. It can be a swirling mass of water, fire, dust or wind. It can be all. It’s for your protection. It will keep you safe.” He feels more than sees the shield snap into place and grins. “There you go! A natural. Of course.” 

“Of course.” She smiles a bit, still oddly serene. She looks to Stiles searchingly and then turns to look at Derek. “I can… hear things. Like a humming?” 

“Oh! Marguerite says that happens sometimes. I’m more of a feeler? I can kinda… touch things? But not really? It’s hard to explain.” He wiggles his fingers. Derek chokes on his coffee and coughs raggedly. His dad pats him on the back, still looking a bit put upon. 

“So that’s how it is…,” Lydia says cryptically. 

“Yes?” Stiles blinks and then squints at her, leaning his head forward a bit. 

“So, who is the Holly King? You’re casting the circle with me, right?” 

“Derek’s the Holly King. Help convince him.” 

“No.” Derek replies flatly, setting his mug down on the table and grabbing another case file. 

“Yes! He’d be the perfect Holly King! He’s all prickly like the leaves!” 

“Still no.” 

“That’s his only qualification?” Lydia asks, smoothing her skirt. She has an oddly innocent face on “Not really a ringing endorsement.” 

“Not the ONLY qualification… Like… they’re brothers, and he told Scott they were brothers once. He gave up being an Alpha and Scott stepped in, but Scott still needs him. They duke it out but they switch power sometimes. Like… Scott looks up to Derek and we need him. He’s just… like a holly tree! No one really thinks about them until the winter because everything else gives up and dies and they’re still sticking around. Instead of being all pine tree, they berry in the winter. They make things better.” He finishes lamely and then glugs his tea so he has something to do with his hands. He can feel Derek’s eyes resting heavily on him and Lydia looks oddly smug and content. 

“Sounds like you put a lot of thought into it.” She remarks and then writes it down. “You’re the Holly King, Derek. Suck it up.” 

“Fine.” He murmurs sullenly. Stiles chances a look at him. His throat feels oddly tight and his chest feels like it’s trying to expand to hold his heart inside of it. Derek looks quietly awed and grumpy about it, which is honestly typical for him. Stiles covers his own odd amalgamation of feels by crowing in success and flopping over onto his back.

“I should have just made you tell him to do it a week ago.” Stiles grins at Lydia. She narrows her eyes at him. 

“You seriously can’t be this stupid.” 

“He can.” His dad chimes in. Stiles claps a hand to his chest. 

“You WOUND me, father. Right here. Right in the heart.” 

 

**** 

 

Stiles can barely sleep the whole night before Yule. It’s his first time casting a circle, his third ritual. He’s practiced, calling circles nightly for the past week, but he’s still panicked that he’s going to trip and fall on his face halfway through casting and ruin the whole thing. 

Marguerite’s church had surprised him with oak and holly crowns for Derek and Scott that they’d handmade. Angie, the woman in the flower crown last time, said that she was just too inspired to leave it. 

The dawn rises with frost and a cold that shocks into Stiles’ lungs. He dresses in his usual layers, a warm hoodie and his thickest socks. He heads downstairs to get the food ready. His dad is actually coming tonight too, and bringing Parrish along. He isn’t sure how he feels about how proud his dad is. It seems an incongruous thing to be proud of. Then again, he’s basically a clergyman now. It’s pretty respectable if you leave out the shape shifters and possible death. 

He focuses on making casserole and pie for the rite so he doesn’t panic all day long. He practically runs to the jeep when it’s time to go. His dad and Parrish are leaving from the station, picking up some jugs of tea and coffee for the feast. 

He heads over early to meet Lydia and Marguerite, fidgeting and tapping his fingers, gnawing at one thumbnail until he tastes the tang that says he is close to blood. Arthur greets him on the porch with a wave where he’s already talking to Lydia. 

“So, I feel like I’m going to puke.” He says in lieu of a greeting and shuffles nervously. 

“Derek will be here later, you’ll feel fine then.” Marguerite pats him and bustles his pie and casserole off to the table. 

“What does Derek have to do with anything? I’m scared I’m gonna fall on my face.” 

“I thought you said he was smart.” Arthur teases at Lydia. 

“I said he’s normally smart. Are you really not getting this still?” She sighs at him and shakes her head. 

“Not… getting what?” he feels a swoop in the pit of his stomach. They can’t know his feelings, can they? He thought he’d been doing a good job hiding them, even from himself sometimes. It’s honestly a bit of self-protection at this point. Derek deserves so much more. What would he ever want with a skinny, flailing, hyperactive spaz? 

“You’re Derek’s anchor and he’s yours.” Marguerite frowns at him. “The pack was training him to work with the Emissary. I had a long rant at Deaton the other day for just abandoning him.”

“What? I’m not a wolf. I don’t need an anchor.” 

“You do. You’re in-between. You’re the linchpin between Coven and Pack. Church in this case.” She gives him a friendly blink. “You never wondered why Derek knows how to pronounce these things?” 

“He… said he was pagan…” He falters a bit. Could that be it? Was he just imagining his feelings or warping them like he’d done with Malia. It had to be that. 

“He is. He was. He was next in line to work with the Emissary. You work in pairs, typically.” Arthur smiles and pats his shoulder kindly. 

“Oh. Well. Ok then.” Stiles nods a bit. Lydia and Marguerite share an exasperated look and shake their heads as he goes and walks towards the circle. He grounds, centers, shields, and waits. The church trickles in slowly, all boisterous and loud, their exuberance notching Stiles’ anxiety up a few degrees. Malia is hand in hand with Phoenix talking to Arthur. Liam is bouncing around talking to everyone looking like an excited puppy. Scott is shirtless in the cold and holding Kira’s hand, talking back and forth quietly with her and looking pleased and calm. His dad and Parrish have cups of coffee in their hands, uniforms on, talking to Marguerite. She puts her hands on Parrish’s face and he smiles at her.

His stomach swoops when Derek comes in, wearing nothing but a cloak over his shoulders and some very tight jeans. Even his feet are bare. His toes and the delicate arch of his foot draw Stiles’ attention in ways that they probably shouldn’t. It’s vulnerable, for Derek, and Stiles finds himself attracted closer like a nail to a magnet.

“Hey, Angie made you a crown and everything. You excited?” He tries for levity and gives him a weak smile. Derek stares back at him seriously and nods as he takes the crown from Stiles to place on his head.

“Stiles. Thank you, for this. I… didn’t want to practice again but I’m glad I did.” He offers. Stiles’ heart thumps painfully in his chest and he grins. 

“No problem, buddy.” He pats his shoulder. “If I make an ass out of myself, you’re gonna roar and scare them all off, right?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll laugh and point.” He replies and then gives that hint of a smile, arching a brow. 

“Ass.” Stiles takes a steadying breath and then claps his hands. “Ritual time! To the circle!” 

Lydia comes up and takes his hand. She’s wearing a long dress, for once. The train dragging the ground behind her. Angie has put a delicate flower crown in her red curls and she smiles at him. He feels almost regretful that she’s so beautiful and yet he no longer feels that low swoop in his belly. 

They head into the circle first and light the sage smudges. The scent of the smoke in the cool air sooths Stiles a little and he feels the tension drain from his spine. His voice doesn’t shake as he starts at the north, calling a prayer out to whoever is listening. The church is still and silent, facing the altar and Lydia with splayed palms, their deep breaths curling out towards the sky. 

“Grant, O Gods and Goddesses, thy protection; and in protection, strength; in strength, understanding; in understanding, knowledge; And in the knowledge for the love of it; for the love of it and for the love of Gods and Goddesses.” Stiles calls, his voice coming from deep in his chest. He feels the energy of the church and pushes it into shape, wrangling it with willpower and belief until the circle snaps into place. Marguerite calls the element earth and they echo her “Hail and welcome!” It repeats around the circle as Angie calls air, Phoenix calls fire, and Arthur finishes with water. 

Lydia calls for the Goddess simply as ‘Our Lady in Darkness’ with her hands raised up to the sky. Stiles kneels as she calls and then stands to call on the God. For the first time he feels a bit of a pull in his mind, a tug of awareness he doesn’t feel ready to prod at further. 

“Yule is the night of the solstice. This is the time when darkness is encroaching on the light.” Lydia tells the circle. “In this time of year, nature is suspended, in wait, we gather together to wait out the cold months. This is the time when the Holly King and Oak King will battle once again for rule.” 

Stiles grins as Derek and Scott roar before they launch at each other, both wolfed out. Derek’s in his beta form, eyes flashing violent blue under his ridged brow. The circle gasps as they fight. Stiles knows it’s nothing more brutal then the usual pack roughhousing but it looks and sounds terrifying. They grapple and end up rolling on the ground for a portion before Scott rolls and bares his throat to Derek, submitting and declaring him the winner. 

“The Holly King reigns until the rebirth of light at imbolc!” Stiles announces and holds Derek’s arm up. He grins as his fangs recede and he blushes a bit. The circle applauds and there are a couple catcalls. “If everyone can join hands…” He calls. Derek links their fingers with Lydia’s and Stiles smiles warmly. “We’re going to chant this three times. If you know it, you can say along or pick it up as it goes.” He clears his throat a bit and waits for the circle to calm. 

“We swear by peace and love to stand, heart to heart and hand in hand, mark our spirits and hear us now confirming this our sacred vow.” 

They repeat, everyone speaking in unison and holding hands, a couple of the women swaying in time and smiling and the men trying to be louder than everyone else. Stiles looks over at Derek as they chant to find him smiling, full dimples and crinkled eyes and so beautiful it makes his stomach do a summersault. 

“We’ll be having feast and hanging out tonight but thanks for joining us this evening. We’ll let the quarters go first and then I’ll close the circle… I apologize in advance for my singing voice.” He grins and they all laugh. Derek heads back to his spot in the group and Stiles’ dad gives him a smile and a big thumbs up. They go from water, to fire, to air, to earth and then thank the deities for joining as they say goodbye. Stiles starts at the north again, walking widdershins and singing. He tries really hard not to feel self-conscious about his voice. 

“We are an old people we are a new people we are the same people stronger than before” He repeats as he goes around and then steps into the circle. “Thank you, everyone for joining. May we leave with the love of the god and goddess in our hearts. Merry meet, merry part, until we merry meet again.” 

There’s cheering and laughter at the end, a couple people letting off war cries. Stiles takes a steadying breath as he goes to walk off. His shoe catches on the altar and he trips, shutting his eyes tightly to brace for impact. He lets out a gust of air as he smacks into a bare chest and looks up into Derek’s face from where he’s caught under his armpits. 

“Thought you were gonna point and laugh.” He teases. Derek just grins and cracks up in his face. Stiles can’t help but chuckle. 

It’s the easiest thing in the world when he leans up and kisses the smile off Derek’s face. He stiffens in Stiles' arms. Panic creeps in for a second before fingers slide against Stiles’ scalp to tug his head to the right angle as Derek licks into his mouth slowly. He lets out a purely pathetic sound and melts against him, fingers clutching his shoulders. 

They’re interrupted by the childish “OOoooooh!’ coming from several Church and Pack members. Stiles pulls back and feels dazed. He bites his bottom lip, chasing the taste of Derek still and blinks slowly. 

“Um. Happy Yule.” He smiles. Derek gently presses their foreheads together, dislodging the Holly crown a little. He smiles and rubs the tip of his nose against Stiles’ own. 

“Happy Yule.”


End file.
